


i need one green heart

by rosemalings



Series: bloom inside my heart [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Changing friendship dynamics, Cottage Living, Fairy Tale Elements, Garden Fairy Yeosang, Jealousy, M/M, No Beta, Platonic Love, Siren Wooyoung, Sun Witch Seonghwa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemalings/pseuds/rosemalings
Summary: "I need one small plant that contains green / Shaded heart that people don’t know, the voice that only I can hear that calms me"
Relationships: Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa
Series: bloom inside my heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071746
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	i need one green heart

If it were up to [Seonghwa](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5qEfubraSvOwv1sYyzhrua?si=aUPTydB_SuKXUM2TM4C44A), they would spend every waking moment together as well every moment in between. While he had been born to a family of witches, he was ever the diligent student at the academies, determined to sharpen his skills. Sun magic is intuitive, each witch’s body attuned to the sun in different ways, but his umma merely chuckled fondly at his determination and thirst for knowledge. Her son, the scholar. The books he accumulated now line the walls of his home on crooked shelves Yeosang had been so proud of assembling on his own, he hadn’t the heart to try to fix it, so moved by his lover’s desire to meet him halfway with the homemaking.

Deokjeokdo is where the forest and the sea meet, though he and Yeosang spend much of their time happily hidden amongst the pines in their cobbled together cottage painted in shades of greens with touches of gold. Gold that the garden fairy insisted on haggling for, kissing the tips of Seonghwa’s golden fingers each time he finished painting a flower along the walls of their house.

If it were up to Seonghwa, they would be spending their day stretched out on the hammock tied between two of the strongest trees with Yeosang’s head against his chest while he propped a book up against his knees, reading aloud to him while the fairy hummed softly in response. But since Yeosang hasn’t visited the shore in quite some time, he supposes he can tidy up and busy himself while Wooyoung gathers him up in arms and sea form and won’t let him go until sunset. Sirens, unless especially hungry for a taste of human flesh, keep to themselves for the most part. 

Sirens with their sharp smiles and fangs framed by pretty faces, with their melodic enchantments and silver tongues.

He wasn’t jealous.

Well, he didn’t quite have a right to be but he can't help himself, staring at their Le Chat Noir clock as it ticked away, yellow feline eyes judging him as Seonghwa huffs and goes over their kitchen with a broom for the nth time that day.

Yeosang had been very small when he first wandered away from the clearing and the pond he called home, letting his tiny feet lead him to the sea where he stumbled upon mounds of sand, unable to find his balance despite having his arms spread wide and nearly falling flat on his face. It was then that a piercing laugh filled his ears – a shock to his senses, he’ll tell him later – and he found himself staring directly at a young boy with an iridescent purple tail flicking behind him. The siren had used the flat of his tail to kick water into his face, making the tiny green fairy sputter in surprise. He knew had loved him then.

It had been difficult when Wooyoung began swimming further away from the island, taking with him a piece of his best friend’s heart. Sometimes Yeosang still feels it, like today when he kicks his bare feet along the shore and listens to the string of updates from the sea, gossip on sirens he’s never met, potential conquests, pretty faces Wooyoung secretly let go because he couldn’t bear to see their bloody faces sink into the waves. ("You’ve always been soft," he murmurs fondly, "especially for pirates.") It is a life he will never experience with him, told only through stories every few weeks or so. The weather is mild enough though the tide has risen this afternoon, covering most of his tail as Wooyoung lazes on his stomach with his cheek pressed into his hand, squished up against his palm.

"And how is the mister?" he finally asks once he’s caught his breath.

Yeosang, busy drawing little figures in the sand with his toes, spins around suddenly to catch a flash of those brilliant white teeth. "My mister," he sniffs, unable to keep the grin from forming on his face as Wooyoung curls his webbed hand around his wrist to tug him onto his rear. He hits the wet sand with a plop, tapping his toes against the water and pulling his knees up to his chest. That doesn’t last long as Wooyoung is intent on stretching out and laying his head against his soft thighs. He settles in by rubbing his own cheek against Yeosang’s leg. "My mister is good and he is good to me," he finally answers, leaning over to shield his friend’s eyes from the afternoon sun overhead. 

"Tell me about how your days go. I tell you everything about mine," he demands, taking Yeosang’s hand and holding it close to his bare chest, pouting like a small child. In a way they are still children around each other, playfully bickering, falling over each other like puppies just learning how to use their appendages. Except in this case, Yeosang is a terrier and Wooyoung is a seal.

"Ah." He blushes a little before he even begins and purses his lips together. "Most mornings we have sex –"

" _Oooooooh_."

"Hush. Anyway, we have sex and Seonghwa-hyung usually has his tea and makes us breakfast. I used to sleep in until noon, remember? Until I met him. People come by the house while I’m gardening to pay for his healing services or have consultations."

That makes Wooyoung raise his eyebrows. "On what?"

He shrugs. "Anything. I think people just like having someone to listen and he’s very good at it. He’s very smart. And sometimes someone will buy potted plants from me. We swim in the pond and sometimes he’ll fix my clothes or read to me." His voice softens and he looks away from his friend shyly. "I never feel cold with him."

The siren squeezes his hand and decides not to tease. "You love him then. Like, really love him."

"Mhm." Without a second of hesitation. And he even grins so wide his cheeks begin to puff out again at the mere thought of his witch with his grimacing smile and his elegant, gold-tipped hands and his thoughtful, wonderful brain. "He’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever known."

Affronted, Wooyoung gasps and pushes at his chest. "Prettier than me?"

"Without a doubt."

That earns him a slap to his thigh and they both laugh and Wooyoung wraps his arms around him like a determined barnacle. "I–I’m glad you have someone to take care of you, Yeosang-ah," he murmurs and he means it with his whole heart even if they both know that Yeosang caught onto those quiet notes of heartache laced through his words. There isn’t a name for this tinge of pain they both feel, desperately clinging to the boys they once knew as Wooyoung swims forward and Yeosang’s roots remain strong, planted firmly in the soil. "You’re practically married," he manages to say after several ticks of silence, the waves lapping more urgently at the shore and at their legs. It’s a call back to his home.

Weddings are for mortals, tethering themselves to each other until death do they part, promises made on golden rings and sealed with a kiss. He has never had such desires, no need to prove to anyone his devotion to Seonghwa. "I'll have a wedding by the sea if that ever happens," he promises anyway because it makes Wooyoung smile, leaning forward again to press his lips against his best friend’s forehead.

Seonghwa is just wrapping up with his last customer of the day when Yeosang returns to their garden with a flutter of his wings, his bare feet still sandy, hair smelling like sea air. He slips his payment into a black velvet pouch and bows deeply to the halmeoni who needed an extra hand with her backaches. As good as new, she retreats into the woods again and they wait until she’s out of sight before Seonghwa has his arms around him, burying his nose in the tufts of light brown hair, smiling when Yeosang slides his arms around his waist and tucks his face right against his neck. He has beckoned the sunlight to stay, dotting the leaves of the trees that provide their home with shade, dancing like fireflies as the day gives way to night. 

"Hullo, hyung," he greets softly, his breath warm.

"Yeosang," Seonghwa greets, tightening his embrace around his shoulders. He always hugs him like it has been years since they last saw each other, even if it’s been mere minutes, never wanting to let his fairy go. "Did you have fun today?"

"Yes –" Quickly, Yeosang begins to pull away slightly, lifting his chin and sniffing the air, his nose wiggling like a curious dog’s might. With narrowed eyes, he picks apart the scents of miyeok-guk, kimchi pancakes, those gourmet noodles he said he liked, a multitude of other side dishes … "Hyung. What’s all this?"

He raises his eyebrows, surprised that Yeosang would question _food_ of all things. Feigning innocence as he picks a bit of seaweed out of his wavy brown hair and delicately flicks it away from his fingertips, "What do you mean?" 

"You never make a spread like this," he observes lightly, tipping his head up to steal a kiss from him. They eat often simply out here, mostly vegetarian with some exceptions like when he wants to treat Yeosang to his favorite chicken. "Just wondering what the occasion was."

Neither of them are especially skilled liars, though Yeosang’s poker face is far better than anything Seonghwa can pull off, always clenching his jaw, brows pinched daintily, his entire body pulled taut like a bow in battle. They both know this but he still _tries_ if only to save face. "Nothing," he murmurs, shaking his head, "well –just felt like it. Do I need an excuse to spoil you?"

"S’pose not." They’re both grinning and and Yeosang steers them both towards the tiny patio picnic table, sitting right up against Seonghwa as they enjoy their dinner. He watches the witch carefully out of the corner of his eye, placing a hand on the small of his back so he can feel that nervous energy running through him even if, to Hwa’s credit, he does his best to smile through it, stealing spicy kisses between bites of pancakes. The night is cool with the sea breeze making its way to their wooded area and Yeosang doesn’t see a need to pick a fight, especially when he playfully tests his patience any other day.

It does not sit right with him when he really allows himself to think about it later as he helps him bring the dishes into the house and Seonghwa insists on washing everything himself and no thank you he can take it from here. Of course he is accustomed to his obsessive cleanliness, but it all merely seems like a thinly-veiled attempt to reclaim some space, still sore with something on his mind.

" _Hyung_ –" Yeosang tries to start the conversation again after cuddling up to him while he’s folding laundry, but Seonghwa has been unusually careful to give him space, gently patting his rear as he rises from the bed. "Going to change the sheets, Yeosangie," he tells him softly, already tugging at the comforter to urge the fairy to flutter to his feet.

Huffing, he retreats to start his bath, testing the water to make sure it’s warm enough. Their rust-colored clawfoot tub is hardly big enough for one of them, let alone both of them, but they make it work when they’re in the mood for an indoor bath. Steam fills the window pane and Yeosang thinks that it’s just warm enough, dropping some bath oils given by one of Seonghwa’s clients as payment. Lavender for calm, basil for energy. He’s already stripped himself of his clothes, having dumped them messily into the wicker hamper. 

"Will you join me?" he asks tentatively, poking his head out, letting some of that precious steam and scent into the rest of the house. He waits until he comes into view before opening the door, standing unabashedly before him with a hand on his hip, iridescent wings outstretched and fluttering in interest. 

Seonghwa blushes in spite of himself. "That would be nice," he mumbles politely, an amusing contrast to the way he lets his round, dark eyes rake over his fairy's body,the slight with a small waist and broad shoulders. The flush of arousal fills his cheeks and he steps into Yeosang’s space, a little pliable now for very obvious reasons. Yeosang has never been above this sort of manipulation, especially if it ends up being mutually beneficial. It does not take long for them to rid Seonghwa of his clothes, the fawn yellow blouse that just barely covers his long torso, the form fitting trousers his lover adores. Yeosang grins when he cups his small derriere as he tugs them all the way down, enjoying the way he stammers as if they have not done this time and time again.

They gingerly enter the tub, careful not to splash all over the sea blue tiles lining their floor, surely freshly scrubbed with all the extra chores Seonghwa has taken on during the course of the day. After folding his wings against his body once more, Yeosang is insistent on sitting against the curve of the porcelain, legs open to welcome the taller body between them. With reluctance, he does settle, hiding a smile when Yeosang molds himself against his back and presses his lips against his neck. They kiss and hands begin to wander familiar territory, warm skin heated by the bath, little tremors when fingertips brush against more sensitive spots. 

Yeosang is careful, keeping his hands to his chest or his hips, at least until he gets answers. Quietly, "Hyung."

"I’m _fine_ , Yeosang," Seonghwa answers in delicate exasperation before freezing, hanging his head. Oops. 

He hooks his chin over a bony shoulder and tries to peer up at him from this angle, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist as a barnacle might to the hull of ship. It reminds him of the early days of courtship one First Day of Spring Festival. The garden fairies, known for both their quiet natures and their grand displays, had held court under the gazebo not too far from their home. They filled the space with arches of flowers, climbing vines, served the freshest vegetables. Yeosang, who had just come of age, had been especially popular that season, flanked by other forest ilk, a young witch who insisted he try her mother’s noodles, a rockseer who shyly asked him to teach him how to make a flower crown. 

And there was Seonghwa, sitting primly under an arch with his knees pressed tight together to support a little plate of hobak buchim he had been poking at awkwardly with his chopsticks. Hiding under a wide-brimmed hat, he was pretending he wasn’t watching Yeosang and Yeosang had been pretending he hadn’t been watching Seonghwa watching _him_ and it all felt very foolish until they both decided to "run into" each other on the low pallet meant for dancing. It was Yeosang who had taken his hand that day and they both had been grateful for it.

"You’re not fine," he sighs. "You hate when I leave you."

"It’s not that," the witch answers stiffly, jaw tight even as he sweeps his thumb over Yeosang’s wrist.

Ah. He furrows his brow. "You hate Wooyoung?" It had never come up before. But then again, he only enjoyed the company of Seonghwa’s own best friend, Hongjoong, a particularly chatty and unusually short half-elf.

"N-no! No," he stammers and they both exhale. Seonghwa carefully twists his long body to sit across from him, feeling he at least owes him a bit of eye contact after an entire evening of selective avoidance. Their legs tangle in the tub and he remembers at the last minute to light his fingertips up so they produce that golden glow, touching the porcelain to keep their bathwater warm and comfortable. 

"So, what?"

Seonghwa envies how easily Yeosang can express himself, honest almost to a fault. If he was not so beloved by all, he might make himself some enemies with that mouth of his. He sighs. "Sometimes, I fear the water might sweep you away from me. That I’ll open my eyes and you’ve decided that you would rather follow a siren to the depths." He pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment, an attempt to maintain composure in spite of the onslaught of emotions he had been suppressing all day. 

His hyung has always carried himself with an air of maturity, wise beyond his years, an old soul. The village ahjummas would joke that he has always been a man of forty, ever since he was ten years old. He looks so small sitting across from him, almost deflated. "Oh, Seonghwa."

"I know, I _know_ how irrational it is, but you’ve loved him longer –"

"Maybe so," he hums, crawling over the limited space between them to perch himself in the other’s lap, smiling when Seonghwa rests his hands on his hips, and he kisses his forehead. "Maybe I’ve known him longer. Maybe – maybe it’s a different kind of love, hyung. I love him, but." He purses his thin lips before pressing them against Seonghwa’s temple and he can feel him grow even warmer as he places his hand against the center of his chest. "You’re mine to have and I’m yours, and I love you with my whole heart."

"Your whole heart," he repeats with more certainty, feeling ridiculous for making such a fuss. He looks upset with himself, face fixed almost in a grimace until Yeosang’s lips find his again and they kiss until they are both breathless.

Deokjeokdo is where sun and earth meet. It is where his light illuminates Yeosang’s face, his spread wings, casting rainbows across their tiny bathroom. It is where they give themselves over to each other time and time again, through bittersweet evenings and golden mornings.

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays/winter solstice. hope this keeps you warm.
> 
> if you'd like to follow me, i can be found at my new [fic twitter](https://twitter.com/therosemalings), mostly sharing snippets, inspiration and footnotes.


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